


La Dolce Vita

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: First Time, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-13
Updated: 2006-03-13
Packaged: 2019-02-02 07:22:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12722163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: On a trip to Venice, Paul learns the true meaninf of "carpe diem."





	La Dolce Vita

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

  
Author's notes: Slash, graphic m/m sex high sap quotient  


* * *

_"This is beautiful," Daniel said, drawing gentle fingers over the lip of the glass bowl._

_"Thanks. I bought that in a small glassmaker's shop in Murano, oh nine, ten years ago."_

_"Really?" Daniel turned in his embrace to face the other man. "I was in Venice ten years ago, just for a couple of days. I was working on my doctorate in archeology then and I stopped on my way to Herculaneum and Pompeii."_

_"Well who knows? Maybe we passed each other in Saint Mark's Square?" Paul suggested, smiling._

_"Perhaps," Daniel confirmed. "Stranger things have happened."_

\--"No, Thank You, John"

Paul pressed down on the button. He heard the shutter click and the film automatically advance. Fitting the lens cap into place once more, he slipped the camera into his backpack and shouldered the bag once more. He stood a moment longer relishing, the sight of Saint Mark's Cathedral illuminated by the beam of sunlight that broke through the clouds. He smiled.

It was breathtaking, like a picture postcard come to life. No, better, Paul decided. No postcard could ever capture the true splendor of the scene before him, heightened and enriched by the experience of his other senses. The bells of the cathedral had begun to chime, their sonorous peals echoing throughout the piazza. He heard the cooing of pigeons, a sound that was suddenly interrupted by the raucous flapping of wings. A squealing child chased after the startled birds and her giggles followed the birds as they took flight. Paul could smell the faint aroma of food being cooked, and underlying it the tang of salt carried on the breeze from the Grand Canal. He could taste the brine on his tongue as he licked his dry lips. The sun was warm on his face and the air was cool and moist.

Beautiful.

Paul turned to walk towards the Grand Canal when a young boy of nine, maybe ten, suddenly appeared before him. He spoke rapidly, and his dark curls bounced as he gestured animatedly.

"Mi dispiace. Non parlo l'italiano," Paul explained in halting Italian. 

The boy continued to talk.

"Mi dispiace," he murmured again with a shake of his head.

"Need some help?"

Paul turned at the sound of another voice at his shoulder. This one, thankfully, spoke perfectly comprehensible English, enunciated with an American accent. Paul flashed a quick smile of gratitude at the man. "Thanks. My Italian sucks. I can't understand a word he's saying."

The other man gave a short huff of laughter. "Oh, I don't think it really matters what he was saying. He was just trying to distract you while his buddy stole your shiny new camera."

"Shit!" Paul exclaimed, eyes wide with alarm. He tore his backpack off his shoulder and tugged the zipper open to peer inside. He breathed a sigh of relief; the camera was still there. He looked up to see the other man smiling at him, no doubt amused at the clueless tourist. Paul could have kicked himself for his inattentiveness. He looked back to where the boy had been standing just moments ago; he was not terribly surprised to see that the boy had vanished completely, swallowed up by the crowd. He was, Paul suspected, off in search of a new victim to fleece. At least Paul had escaped with his belongings intact.

"How did you know?"

"It's an old scam. You see it a lot around the big tourist sites like this. Actually you're lucky. I think they were probably pretty new to the game, well, either that or they just got sloppy." The other man shook his head. "They never would have cut it in Cairo with a shoddy act like that."

"Thanks," Paul said, though somehow that felt inadequate. He could feel his cheeks color with embarrassment. He really should have known better.

"No biggie," the other man replied with a shrug as he turned away.

"I'm Paul, by the way."

The other man turned back towards him and flashed him a smile, his teeth very white against tanned skin. "Daniel," he replied. He took the hand that Paul extended towards him and shook it. His grip was strong and sure.

"Nice to meet you, Daniel," Paul said, his hand still wrapped around Daniel's. He hesitated a moment then plunged ahead. "Look, you did me a big favor. That's my brother's camera. He would have creamed me if I'd lost it. Let me at least buy you a drink or something to say thanks."

Daniel studied him for a minute before he acquiesced with a nod. "Sure." 

Paul flashed Daniel a quick smile. "Cool." It was only then that he realized his hand was still clasped around Daniel's. Daniel cocked a brow at him and Paul flushed for the second time that day. He pulled his hand back and let it drop to his side.

"Um..." Paul's gaze skittered around the piazza as he tried to regain his composure. "Let's see, where should we go?"

"Not here," Daniel said. "These are all overpriced tourist traps. "I know a place."

"OK," Paul agreed without hesitation. "Lead on."

Daniel nodded and did just that. They pushed their way through the throngs of tourists, the babble of languages accosting assaulting their ears before Daniel left the piazza and turned onto a side street that was only slightly less crowded. Paul followed along as Daniel unerringly led them through the winding streets and across the occasional small bridge. Obviously Daniel knew the city better than Paul did, though that wasn't saying much. 

The narrowness of the streets and the press of bodies made it hard to walk side by side, so Paul contented himself with walking behind and slightly to the left of Daniel. He used the opportunity to study the other man. Paul pegged him as a college student backpacking his way across Europe on summer vacation. Daniel was his own age, perhaps a year or two older, though Paul wasn't certain. Like Paul, Daniel was dressed in the informal manner of the student abroad: jeans, a tee- shirt, a pair of dusty tennis shoes that had seen better days, and the inevitable backpack slung over his shoulder. Yet there was an air of assurance about him that Paul envied. It made his seem older. Worldly. Yes, that was it. Worldly.

After about a quarter hour's walk, Daniel led them into a small square, less crowded and quieter than San Marco had been.

"Where are we?"

"Campo San Stefano," Daniel said. "That's Santo Stefano over there," he explained with a jerk of his thumb in the direction of an imposing red brick structure off to the side.

"Oh."

"C'mon," Daniel suggested. He led them over to a nearby café and plopped down in a chair at one of the tables facing the square. Paul followed suit and shifted his chair slightly so that he was squarely under the awning overhead. He stretched his legs out and sighed. He hadn't realized how worn out he was until he stopped moving.

"Tired?" Daniel asked.

"Yeah, actually I am. I've been up and walking since dawn. Feels good to sit."

"Know what you mean," Daniel said as slouched further into his own seat. "Venice is beautiful, but it's hard on the feet."

A waiter came up to their table, his expression one of impatience. "Buon giorno," Daniel said before he gave the waiter a winning smile. The waiter's expression defrosted somewhat. 

He turned towards Paul. "What do you want?"

"Um...I guess a mineral water."

"Carbonated?"

"Yeah."

Daniel turned back to the waiter. "Uno acqua minerale gassata e uno caffè, per favore." The foreign words slid gracefully off his tongue without the faintest hint of an accent. The waiter grunted and headed inside.

"Where'dya learn to speak Italian?" Paul asked, suddenly curious.

Daniel shrugged. "I just sort of picked it up. I'm pretty good with languages."

Paul nodded. Not much he could say to that.

"So, Paul," Daniel began, drawing his name out pleasantly. "What brings you to Venice?" It was a perfectly reasonable question, yet somehow it almost sounded like a corny pick-up line. Paul pushed that idiotic thought away.

"I'm traveling with my folks."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Two weeks traveling around Tuscany."

"I hate to break it to you Paul, but we're not in Tuscany," Daniel said with a teasing smile. 

"We're not?" Paul asked in mock horror. His lips twitched and Daniel chuckled. 

"Nope."

"Whoops."

"So where are the folks?"

"Right now they're in Lucca. I really wanted to see Venice, but my mom said it was nothing but a glorified tourist trap these days. So we compromised; I came to Venice, they went on to Lucca. I'll meet them in Florence."

"Sounds reasonable."

"I thought so."

The waiter's shadow fell across them and Paul fished some lira from his wallet and paid the tab. He poured some of his water into the glass and drank. The liquid was cool and refreshing, though he missed the bracing chill of a few ice cubes. 

Daniel sipped his coffee slowly. "Is this your first time in Europe?" he asked over the rim of his cup.

"Yeah, it is. My parents wanted to do something special. I'm starting the Air Force Academy next month," Paul explained, unable to keep the note of pride from his voice. He'd been riding high ever since he had received his acceptance letter eight months earlier. The closer he got to start of the semester, the greater his sense of anticipation.

"The Air Force," Daniel echoed, his tone flat.

"Is there something wrong with the Air Force?" Paul asked, suddenly defensive.

"No, no," Daniel replied hastily. "I'm sorry if I gave that impression. It's just...that's a big decision, ya know? You're, what, eighteen, nineteen...?"

"Eighteen."

"...and you're already joining the military."

"Well, that assumes I make it through," Paul confided self- deprecatingly.

"Still, it seems like a pretty serious choice."

"Funny, it seems perfectly normal to me," Paul replied. "It's what I've always wanted for as long as I can remember. Then again, it's a family tradition. Dad is Air Force, so was grand-dad. It's in our blood."

"That I can understand." Daniel sighed. "Look, I'm sorry if it sounds like I'm dismissing your career path. It's really none of my business."

Paul shook his head. "It's OK. Lots of people don't get it. The only thing that matters is I'm doing what I want to do. Hell, most of the people I went to high school don't even have the first clue about what they want to do, so I figure I'm at least one step ahead on that count, at least."

"I couldn't agree more," Daniel replied. 

"So, what about you? What are you doing in Venice?" Paul asked in an effort to shift the conversation.

Daniel put his coffee down. "I'm on my way down to Pompeii."

Paul frowned. "That's near Naples, right?"

"Yeah, it is, but like you I just wanted to see Venice. So I decided to take the long way around. Tomorrow morning I leave for Naples and Pompeii."

"What's in Pompeii?"

"The Anglo American Project Field School. The University of Bradford runs it every summer."

"Archeology?" Paul asked.

"Yep."

"So, you'll be taking classes down there?"

"Um...not quite," Daniel replied obliquely

Paul frowned. "What's that mean exactly?"

"Well, I won't be there as a student. I'm actually going to be working there as staff."

"Staff?"

"Yeah. I got a position as an area supervisor."

"Aren't you a bit young for that?"

"Maybe," Daniel replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "But I've got a lot more experience than the kids who sign up for the program. It's basic fieldwork 101. Pretty much rudimentary stuff. I've been doing it for years." Daniel stated in a rather matter-of-fact manner.

Paul shook his head. OK, so much for his belief that Daniel was a student. "How old are you?"

"I'm twenty. Well, I will be in three weeks," Daniel amended.

Paul gaped at him. "And you're a professor already?"

"God no," Daniel said. He shook his head and gave a snort of laughter. "I just started working on my doctorate at the Oriental Institute last year. This," he explained with a sweep of his hand that indicated far more than the cobble-stoned square in front of them, "is just a lucky opportunity that fell in my lap. Someone dropped out of the Field School at the last minute and they were desperate for a replacement. My professor happens to be an old friend of the project director. He knew I had a lot of field experience, so he recommended me and, well, here I am."

"Well I have to say I've never met an archeologist before. Interesting career choice."

"It's in my blood, kinda like you and the Air Force. My parents were archeologists, so was my grandfather."

"Well, here's to keeping it in the family," Paul said as he raised his glass in a brief salute. Daniel echoed the gesture with his coffee cup.

"Hear, hear!"

They fell into a companionable silence then as they drank their drinks and watched as people moved across the square in front of them. Paul felt torn between his desire to see a bit more of the city which had, after all, been the original purpose of this trip, and a growing desire to stay here in Daniel's pleasant company. It occurred to him then that maybe Daniel had other things he'd rather do as well and that he was merely being polite. That thought strengthened his resolve.

Drinking the last of his water, Paul stood. "Well, I guess I should be going. There's a lot to see, and I've only got one day."

Daniel stood as well. "Of course," he said as he walked from beneath the awning into the sunlight. "A day's not much time. You really need at least three or four to get a sense of Venice."

Paul stood next to him. "Well, unfortunately one day is all I have."

"Pity."

"I should go now."

"Yeah, me too."

They both stood there, Daniel apparently every bit as reluctant to walk away as Paul was. Finally, Daniel broke the stalemate. "Have you been inside San Stefano?" he asked with a jerk of his head in the direction of the church across the square.

"No, I haven't. I didn't even know it was there 'til you showed it to me."

"Do you like Tintoretto?"

Paul had no idea who or what a Tintoretto was, but he recognized an opening when he saw one. "Sure."

"Well, c'mon then," Daniel said, leading the way once more. Paul followed him across the square and around the corner to where the entrance resided. Daniel pulled on the heavy wooden door and the hinges groaned at the movement. They walked inside. 

After the brilliant sunlight of the square, the interior was surprisingly dark and cool. Paul could feel goose bumps prickling along his bare skin. He rubbed his arms as his eyes adjusted to the dim illumination that filtered in from the windows above. 

"C'mon," Daniel beckoned once more and Paul followed without hesitation. They walked down the nave towards the altar. Their footsteps sounded preternaturally loud within the hushed confines of the church interior. They moved past paintings of obscure saints who seemed to gaze down at them with coolly detached expressions gracing their timeless features, and rows of votive candles that shimmered and sparked behind blood red glass. Daniel ushered him into the sacristy.

"Do you have any coins?" Daniel asked.

Taken off guard by the question, Paul hesitated before he rummaged through his front pocket and withdrew a few coins. Daniel squinted down at them in the darkness. He picked one up and walked over to one side of the sacristy. Paul couldn't see much of anything but he heard the sound of the coin as it was dropped in a slot and then there was a light that bathed the paintings in soft illumination. Paul's gaze drifted across the paintings as he drank in the sight of gracefully attenuated limbs and brilliant colors that blazed in the darkness. He was surprised and delighted by the image of an angel swooping down from heaven on varicolored wings, a gleaming chalice clutched in its hand. He felt Daniel come to stand just behind him.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" Daniel asked reverently, his voice barely more than a whisper as his breath gusted against Paul's nape, warm and moist. 

Paul didn't trust himself to speak. His eyes were dazzled by the strange and wonderful images before him, his body enthralled by the tantalizing warmth of Daniel's body so unexpectedly near his own. He nodded then swallowed. 

"Yes," he whispered, the sound low and cracked, torn from his suddenly dry throat.

"I've always loved Tintoretto," Daniel said in the same hushed tone. "There's such, I don't know, passion, in his art. You can see it in the way he composes his paintings. The odd angles, the vibrant colors. He doesn't care about the rules. He only wants to make you feel."

And Paul did feel it. Maybe it was nothing more than Daniel's enthusiasm, maybe it was Daniel's intoxicating presence, but Paul felt like he was having an epiphany of sorts, just like his namesake on the road to Damascus.

"Yes," Paul repeated. No other words came to mind, but Paul didn't really think they were necessary. He simply stood there and breathed and gazed and felt, always conscious of Daniel warm and solid behind him. With a sharp click that sounded painfully loud, the lights cut out, leaving Paul and Daniel in shadow once more. The moment stretched and then Daniel stepped away from him and Paul felt surprisingly bereft, robbed first of sight and now of touch.

"Ready?"

"Yes," Paul said for the third time before he followed Daniel out of the church and back out into the bright southern light.

Paul squinted painfully. He threw his arm up to block the sun, aware of Daniel doing the same at his side.

They descended the stairs and walked back toward the square and ducked into the cool shadow cast by the church.

"So did you like them?" Daniel asked.

"Yeah, I did," Paul replied truthfully. "You're right. They really are pretty amazing. Did he do a lot of those paintings?"

"Tintoretto? God yes. There must be at least a half a dozen churches in Venice with his paintings. The best one is Madonna dell'Orto. That was his parish church. He's buried there, in fact."

"I'd love to see it," Paul said.

"Really?" 

"Really."

Daniel frowned. "It's in the Cannaregio, up in the north part of the city. It's a bit of a hike."

"I'm game if you are," Paul challenged. "After all, who knows? I might never get back to Venice again so this might be my only chance to see them. There's nothing worse than a missed opportunity. Carpe diem and all that." 

"Carpe diem," Daniel echoed thoughtfully, then nodded sharply. "Let's get a move on then."

Daniel hadn't been joking about the journey being a hike. Over the course of the next several hours they traversed the length of the city, winding a circuitous path through narrow, twisting streets and over stone bridges spanning the canals. Paul was grateful for Daniel's company, not only for the companionship but also for Daniel's knowledge of the city that far exceeded his own. Of course Daniel had the advantage of three days experience walking the city, but Paul wasn't one to quibble. Paul's map remained unused at the bottom of his backpack as Daniel led them on a meandering path.

They stopped occasionally to explore the churches they encountered along their way with Daniel holding forth and providing unexpectedly knowledgeable commentary drawn from an apparently encyclopedic memory.

"OK, so how does an archeologist learn so much about Renaissance churches?" Paul asked between bites of gelato.

Daniel shrugged, before his tongue snaked out to capture an errant drop of gelato that had dripped on his chin. "I took some classes, did some reading. I like learning new things. You never know when it will come in handy."

Paul couldn't help but agree. The gelato they were currently eating was a case in point. Daniel had refused to stop at the first gelato stand they had encountered. He said that, according to an Italian friend, the surest sign of good homemade gelato was the color of the banana. "Gray. Real banana gelato should be kind of gray. If it's yellow, it's been colored and should therefore be viewed with suspicion." 

Paul had acquiesced and they had continued on their way. Daniel had pronounced the third stand acceptable and Paul was glad they had waited. The gelato had been smooth as silk and the taste had exploded on his tongue in a burst of flavor. The sensation was as close to orgasmic as Paul had ever gotten with his dick firmly in his pants. Daniel had been right again.

"Hey, this should be right up your alley, Paul," Daniel said as they stumbled upon yet another square.

"OK, I'll bite. What's up my alley?"

"Him," Daniel said as he waved his hand towards a large bronze statue. It was of a man on horseback whose stiff posture and disdainful scowl made him appear all the more massive and daunting.

"Who is he?"

"That," Daniel announced, "is Bartolomeo Colleoni, the most famous of the condottieri. An Italian soldier of fortune," he clarified for Paul who nodded in understanding. "Apparently he wasn't a terribly nice guy. He kept changing sides between Venice and Milan, but he obviously was doing something right since he became the _generalissimo_ of Venice. When he died, he willed his entire fortune to the Republic of Venice. But it came with one very big catch."

"Which was?"

"The city had to erect a statue in his honor in front of San Marco."

Paul gazed around him. "Hmm...this doesn't look like Saint Mark's Square to me."

"Nope. And therein lies the cleverness. There was no way in hell they were ever going to fuck up the piazza with a statue to anybody, let alone a soldier who kept changing sides. But there was also no way they were going to let that nice big fortune slip away, either. So they pulled a bit of a bait and switch. They erected the statue in front of San Marco, all right. The *Scuolo* di San Marco, right over there," Daniel said as he nodded towards an elaborate marble façade across the square.

"Cute." 

"Yep," Daniel agreed. "And the lesson to be learned here, boys and girls, is *never* trust a politician, especially after he's already got your money."

"I'll keep that in mind," Paul replied with a wry smile. Daniel laughed. 

"C'mon," Daniel said, tapping Paul on the arm and leading the way once more.

The city, Paul noticed, changed character the farther north they went. The canals and the _fondamente_ grew wider and the number of people dwindled until they were virtually alone.

"This part of the city is more residential," Daniel explained when Paul voiced his observation. "Hardly any tourists come this far north and if they do, they just take the vaporetto. It's faster."

Paul nodded. He certainly understood why They'd been walking for hours, though of course their trajectory far from direct as Daniel led them first one way then the other to catch sight of some interesting monument or breathtaking view. When Daniel decided to show you the city he *showed* you the city.

The street they were walking along was completely deserted, except for a cat seated in a doorway that watched them through slitted eyes. They walked along the Fondamenta dei Mori, past sun-bleached walls and shuttered windows. They paused when they reached Tintoretto's house and Daniel translated the white marble plaque hanging beside the door for him. It seemed a very mundane place compared to the beautiful paintings that had once been created inside. 

Paul heard a soft sound and turned around. The cat had decided to follow them. She wound around Paul's legs and he crouched to pet her, rubbing beneath her chin to feel her purr against his fingertips. Daniel laughed.

"Cat person, huh?"

"Yep," Paul said as he scratched between the tabby's ears. "What can I say? I have a way with felines." With a sigh, he petted her one last time before he stood, a move that earned him a disgruntled meow. "Sorry," he said over his shoulder as he and Daniel continued on their way. When he looked back again the cat was gone.

A few minutes later they had reached their destination.

"Madonna dell'Orto," Daniel announced, his voice slightly breathy, whether from anticipation or exhaustion Paul didn't know. After a day spent visiting quite possibly every church in Venice, Paul knew this one was especially fine. It glowed in the sunlight, all red brick and creamy marble against the bright blue of the sky, and it appeared both massive and oddly delicate at once. Daniel led him inside. By now, Paul had become accustomed to the shift in temperature and the sudden hushed stillness he encountered inside the church, though his skin still prickled with the chill. They walked slowly down the aisle towards the altar, side by side, stopping again and again to gaze at the paintings adorning the walls. So much beauty was housed here, Paul thought, hidden away behind red brick walls.

They moved to the chancel and Paul was suddenly surrounded by brilliantly colored paintings. He felt a bump against his shoulder.

"That's you," Daniel said. "Well, more precisely, your namesake," he added in clarification. Daniel murmured the words into Paul's ears, his breath sending a shiver along Paul's spine as he pointed to one of the paintings. Paul moved closer to examine it and he could feel Daniel follow close behind. Paul squinted at the words inscribed on the small brass plate though the painting was self-explanatory.

"The beheading of Saint Paul," Daniel stated from his position just behind Paul's right shoulder. Paul nodded as his gaze swept across the painting. It was a rich tapestry of red and gold, all flashing brushstrokes and dramatic angles. He could see the aged saint where he knelt before his executioner, his hands clasped in prayer, and just above, an angel sweeping downwards. In its hands it held aloft a palm and laurel wreath, the attributes of the saint's impending martyrdom. Such a beautiful rendition of a grim subject, though Paul supposed that was rather the point. 

"I think I'll pass on the martyrdom bit. I like having my head attached to my shoulders." Paul said in a low voice.

"Good call."

They fell silent once more. Paul soaked up the exquisite images arrayed before him, yet all the while he remained achingly aware of Daniel's presence behind him, so close Paul could feel the warmth of the other man's body through the thin cotton of his tee-shirt, could practically hear Daniel's heart beating in his chest. He breathed in and out slowly, his chest rising and falling in sync with Daniel's as his soft exhalations stirred the hair at Paul's nape.

He felt Daniel shift behind him. "Ready?" he asked.

Paul bit down sharply on his first impulse which was to say 'no.' No, he wasn't ready to go; no, he wasn't ready for Daniel to move away and break the moment. Paul winced in embarrassment, relieved that Daniel couldn't see his expression. He closed his eyes for a moment to regain his composure. When he turned to face Daniel, he was in control once more.

"Sure."

For just a moment, Paul thought he saw something reflected in Daniel's eyes. Some emotion, sharp and intense, that flared and vanished just as quickly, camouflaged beneath a warm smile. Paul thought that perhaps it was hunger, but it was hard to tell for sure in the erratic lighting of the chancel. Perhaps Paul was merely projecting his own emotions on the other man. And yet...Daniel's warmth and proximity had been real and wonderfully, achingly palpable. Perhaps Paul wasn't imagining things at all.

They walked to the exit in companionable silence and then they were back under the bright Venetian sun. They stood in front of the church, their bodies casting long shadows across the paving stones in the late afternoon sunlight.

Paul was the first to speak. "Thank you."

Daniel smiled at him. "It was my pleasure, Paul."

"Do you want to have dinner with me?" Paul blurted out He cursed himself inwardly for his lack of tact, but Daniel wasn't bothered in the slightest. Quite the contrary; Daniel's smile broadened and it warmed Paul more than the sun that was just beginning its slow descent towards dusk.

"I'd like that. We should probably find a vaporetto and head back to Saint Mark's."

Paul nodded his agreement and off they went. True to form, Daniel led them to a nearby dock to await the boat. A quarter hour later they were making their way back to the Grand Canal. The boat was fairly crowded but they had managed to squeeze onboard, their bodies pressed close together. It was a rough trip as the small boat jumped and skittered across the choppy waters. Paul struggled to keep his balance as his body collided repeatedly with Daniel's and with those of their fellow passengers. No one seemed to mind, though, Paul least of all. He could feel Daniel's laughter rumble in his chest as they collided once more. The sound, like the mood, was contagious and Paul began to relax and relish the moment. He could taste salt on his tongue, carried on the breeze that stirred their hair and shivered across their skin. He smiled at Daniel who smiled back at him.

When they reached their destination, Paul and Daniel tumbled off the boat, laughing and staggering like a pair of drunken sailors newly returned from leave, and they clung to one another as they worked to get their balance back after the boat ride. Daniel smiled at him again, and Paul felt his heart lurch at the sight.

Paul cleared his throat nervously and wiped his suddenly sweaty palms surreptitiously against his denim clad thighs. For the umpteemth time that day, he felt like a stupid lovesick schoolboy. Desperate for a distraction, his gaze skittered to the nearby stands where venders were hawking trinkets and souvenirs to the crowds of passing tourists. A thought suddenly occurred to Paul

"Oh, wait a second!" Paul said as he shot a look at Daniel. "I need to get some postcards first."

Daniel nodded and followed Paul to one of the stands. Paul quickly turned one of the racks filled with colorful and generic views of the city. He grabbed a few at random: a view of Saint Mark's Square, a couple showing the Grand Canal at different times of day, one of the Doge's Palace. He was about to turn away, when an image caught his eye. It was a post card showing the statue of Bartolomeo Colleoni that Daniel had pointed out to him earlier. He smiled as he grabbed one to add to his stack and went to pay.

With the postcards safely tucked inside his backpack, Paul turned to Daniel.

"So, any suggestions for dinner?"

"Pizza?"

"Sounds good."

They made their way through the crowds milling about in Saint Mark's Square and into the nearby side streets. The sun was setting, bathing the stone facades in vibrant orange. They found a restaurant tucked in a small, relatively quiet piazza, drawn by the irresistible aroma of garlic and wood smoke. They found a table that faced on to the piazza where they could watch the people going by then all but collapsed into their seats. Paul gave a deep sigh. It felt wonderful to sit at last.

A waiter came over to their table and handed them each a menu. Daniel chatted with him in his fluid Italian. The waiter beamed and pointed at the menu as he spoke.

"Trust me?" Daniel asked.

Paul nodded without hesitation.

Daniel ordered for them both and the waiter left them in peace. He returned in short order with two glasses and a bottle of red wine that he uncorked and poured with the finesse of long practice. 

"Grazie," Daniel murmured. He turned to Paul and raised his glass. "Salute!" 

"Salute!" Paul echoed as he clinked his glass against Daniel's. He took a tentative sip.

"That's good," he pronounced, genuinely pleased.

Daniel nodded in agreement before he took another sip of his own. "And cheap. For a couple of bucks you can get a bottle of wine that would cost thirty dollars back in the States."

"Well, it would be a shame to let it go to waste, wouldn't it?"

"Oh, absolutely," Daniel agreed fervently with a wicked smile in Paul's direction.

Paul laughed and took another drink.

By the time the waiter returned with their pizzas, Paul's stomach was rumbling impatiently and he tore into his pizza like a starving man. Once more, his trust in Daniel had paid off. The pizza was fabulous and nothing like the product that bore its name back home. The edge of the crust was blackened and the smell of the wood-burning stove lingered in the dough, giving it a pungent bite that was perfectly balanced by the hint of sweetness in the tomato sauce. Thin slices of proscuitto liberally covered the surface interspersed with mushrooms and black olives. Paul made no effort to voice his thoughts; instead he just made appreciative noises between bites until he'd taken the edge off his hunger.

They continued to eat at a slower pace. They talked of inconsequential things and drank their wine. When they finished the bottle, they ordered another. Paul had never had so much to drink before in his life. He felt giddy and lightheaded and laughter bubbled out from him, flowing as easily as the wine. He suspected, however, that the wine alone wasn't responsible for his intoxicated state. He looked at his companion. Daniel was in the midst of recounting his first trip on camel back when he was five years old. His face was flushed and his eyes were bright as he waved his hands about in counterpoint to his ongoing narrative. In that moment, Paul couldn't imagine anything more beautiful or tantalizing than Daniel. 

Daniel caught his gaze and paused. Paul flushed in embarrassment as he realized he had probably been staring quite openly. He bowed his head for a moment to hide his blush. When he raised his head, Daniel was studying him, his expression speculative. Daniel lifted his wine glass to take a sip of wine. The look that Daniel shot him over the rim of his glass could only be described as smoldering, and Paul felt his cock give a twitch in spite of his best efforts to remain calm. Daniel lowered his glass and let his tongue flick out to capture an errant droplet of wine. Paul's tongue slithered out and licked his own lips in response.

The smile that Daniel gave him then was anything but sweet. There was an edge to it, dark and dirty that made Paul go instantly hard. He swallowed nervously and smiled back. He desperately hoped that his expression came across as flirtatious rather than panicky. He sighed inwardly when he saw Daniel's eyes go dark and hooded. 

"You ready to go?" Daniel asked, his voice low and husky.

Paul swallowed again and nodded. Daniel called the waiter over and they paid the check. Daniel stood and Paul followed suit.

By unspoken agreement, they began to walk away from the direction of the Grand Canal. Like a pair of fish swimming upstream, they wove their way through streets thick with tourists to make their way past the noise and congestion of the crowds. They turned down a narrow side street that was blissfully free of people. The sudden absence of noise was soothing and the air was cool as they continued to walk down streets that became ever more narrow. They crossed a small bridge that spanned one of the tiny canals, and then another. They continued to walk. 

This part of the city was dim and silent. Their footfalls sounded loudly on the paving stones and echoed oddly off the water and the surrounding walls. They hadn't said a word since they left the restaurant, though Paul kept shooting Daniel sideways glances and had caught Daniel doing the same. He felt a little better once he realized that Daniel was edgy as well. 

Although the night air was cool, it did little to dissipate the heat in Paul's body. The narrowness of the streets forced them to walk closely together and every now and then one or the other would stumble over a cobblestone and their bodies would collide. Paul looked over at Daniel and when their eyes met the moment was electric. They crossed another bridge and stepped beneath an archway that shrouded the path ahead in inky darkness. 

It was then that Paul took action. He grabbed Daniel by the shoulders and spun him around to face him. Then, with a rough sound that was part growl and part whimper, Paul pressed Daniel against the nearby wall and kissed him fiercely in the shadowed stillness. Daniel gave a small, startled sound, clearly taken by surprise by the suddenness of Paul's movement, but his response to Paul's onslaught was anything but equivocal. Daniel wrapped his arms around Paul's back and pulled him closer as his legs shifted apart to allow Paul to settle between them. The kiss was clumsy and raw as teeth clinked and lips realigned, but the awkwardness was momentary. Paul devoured Daniel's mouth, sliding his tongue inside the welcoming heat as Daniel responded in kind. Daniel tasted of tomatoes and garlic laced with wine. He felt Daniel's hands as they tugged roughly at his tee-shirt, pulling it free, before they slid up Paul's back, spreading heat in their wake. His own hands framed Daniel's face momentarily then moved upwards. His fingers tangled in Daniel's shaggy hair to hold his head still while Paul kissed him feverishly.

Paul gave a muffled yelp of surprise as Daniel surged forward and twisted his body to reverse their positions. The stone wall was chilly and slightly damp against Paul's back and the moisture began to seep through his tee-shirt to join the sweat that already slicked his skin. His dick, heavy and hard, was trapped between them and his hips snapped forward of their own accord in search of satisfaction. Daniel rocked against him and he could feel Daniel's erection as it pressed against his own. Paul shivered at the contact and his low moan was swallowed by Daniel's mouth.

Desperate for air, Paul tore his mouth from Daniel's. His head fell forward to rest against Daniel's shoulder as he drew in harsh breaths. "God!" he gasped between noisy gulps of air.

"Yeah," Daniel agreed in a muffled voice. His face was nestled against Paul's neck, his gasping breaths hot and moist against Paul's skin. Daniel turned his head to place a kiss on Paul's neck, followed by a gentle nip of teeth that made Paul shudder. Daniel nipped the skin a bit more forcefully this time before his tongue snaked out to sooth the superheated patch of skin. Paul moaned.

"I have a room," Paul panted.

Daniel raised his head to look at him. Even in the shadows, Paul thought he could read a feral glint in Daniel's eyes. "Where?"

"The Fenice."

Daniel leaned in and nipped at his earlobe. "Near the opera house?" Daniel whispered before his tongue flicked out and dove into Paul's ear.

Paul swallowed loudly and nodded. Speech was now well beyond his meager resources 

Daniel pulled away and for a moment Paul felt bereft. Then Daniel reached out and took his hand and pulled him away from the wall and back into the wan moonlight.

"C'mon."

Paul let Daniel lead them back the way they came. Paul doubted he could have remembered the path even under the best of conditions[,] and given that all his blood was currently pooling about his shorts, he would hardly consider himself in prime intellectual form. They moved quickly through the narrow, winding streets, both of them desperate for relief. Daniel kissed him beneath another shadowed archway, his hands clamped firmly on Paul's ass. They kissed and ground against each other and then they pulled apart and continued on their way. Paul tugged Daniel into a darkened doorway to snatch another kiss that Daniel eagerly returned. Feeling reckless, Paul reached down to slide one hand along the bulge in Daniel's pants. Daniel moaned then muttered a curse into Paul's mouth, even as he moved into Paul's touch. They pulled apart, more reluctantly this time, and continued on their path.

Paul could hear the sound of voices up ahead that signaled their return to the busier part of the city. Daniel led them through the side streets but there were too many people nearby. They hastened their steps.

The looming shape of the opera house hovered into view. "This way," Paul directed with a tug on Daniel's arm. Minutes later they were at the small hotel. Paul retrieved his room key from the bored desk attendant who barely glanced up from the comic book he was reading. 

Paul led Daniel up the staircase and towards his room on the third floor. His hands shook as he tried to slide the key in the lock and then Daniel's hand closed over his, steady and strong. With Daniel's hand still clasped over his, Paul unlocked the door and led them inside.

Daniel was on him in an instant. He pressed Paul backwards and their combined weight closed the door with a resounding thud. Neither man made a move towards the light switch, choosing instead to map one another's body by touch and taste alone. Lips met and locked, parted only to draw breath before sweeping down and take possession once more. Hands stroked and grasped and tore at now inconvenient and restrictive clothing. Paul swore as he fumbled awkwardly with the buttons of Daniel's pants. Daniel chuckled, a rich, throaty sound that went right to Paul's groin. He gently batted Paul's hands away to remove the offending garment himself. Paul took the hint and busied himself with the removal of his own clothing. He quickly toed off his sneakers and removed his pants, briefs and socks in a single hurried motion.

They tumbled together on to the bed in a tangle of naked limbs and laughter. And then there was no time for laughter, as their mouths were put to other more enthralling tasks. They kissed until they both were dizzy and breathless and then they kissed some more. Paul's hands roved freely over Daniel's body and he delighted in the feel of warmth flesh and firm muscle that trembled beneath his fingertips. Nor was he alone in his exploration. Paul felt Daniel's inquisitive touch, gentle and demanding by turns, as he charted Paul's body with a thoroughness that left Paul aquiver. 

They tussled and rolled across the bed, their limbs entwined until at last they came to a stop, draped more diagonally than vertically upon the bed. Daniel was on top, his body a warm, heavy weight upon Paul's own. Daniel stretched Paul's arms out above his head and held his wrists clasped in a firm grasp as he began to move in a slow, sensuous rhythm. Paul wrapped his legs around Daniel's thighs to pull him closer as he surged upwards in counterpoint to Daniel's movements. Daniel's mouth left Paul's to drop soft, wet kisses and teasing bites along Paul's cheeks, his, jaw, his neck. Paul trembled and moaned as each touch stoked the fire building inside him. Daniel made sounds of his own, gasping breaths and soft words mumbled against Paul's skin. Sweat slicked their bodies as they glided and thrust in an increasingly frantic rhythm before all semblance of control was lost and they ground together like a pair of minks in heat. 

Paul knew he couldn't last much longer. After a day of covert flirtation and a night of more overt seduction, Paul had been ready to burst before they ever stepped foot into the room. He could feel the pressure building in his balls and his belly, and then Paul came with a harsh cry. Daniel thrust against him a few seconds longer, and then he followed Paul, shooting his semen across Paul's stomach before he too collapsed, spent and gasping for air.

They lay entwined together, sweaty and exhausted, semen still coating both of them. Paul sighed deeply. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this good, this loose.

Daniel released his arms. Paul flexed the muscles tentatively as Daniel flopped on to his back beside him, an arm flung across his eyes. Their breathing sounded loud in the suddenly quiet room. Paul rolled onto his side and propped himself on his elbow to get a better look at Daniel in the dim light. Daniel's face was flushed and his lips were swollen and bruised. Paul suspected he looked much the same. As if feeling Paul's scrutiny, Daniel raised his arm and looked up at him.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"That was..." Paul's voice trailed off, unable to find the right word.

"Yeah," Daniel agreed.

Paul reached across and let his fingers ghost along Daniel's skin. Daniel's chest was as hairless as his own, though the skin was paler. Paul's hand moved upwards and he circled one pink nipple with the tip of his index finger, feeling the subtle change in texture as he moved closer to the nub in a slow spiral. Daniel watched him with slumberous eyes, but said nothing. Paul continued his study of Daniel's body, his movements lazy. The earlier hunger had dimmed and now Paul touched, not to arouse, but simply because he could.

Daniel rolled over on his side to face Paul. He slid his hand along Paul's arm, his touch so light it barely stirred the hairs on Paul's forearm. Daniel's hand swept upwards, past his bicep, around his shoulder, along his neck. His hand paused there to curl about Paul's nape and Daniel's thumb stroked across the sensitive skin just below the ear. Paul shivered at the touch and then Daniel tugged ever so gently to pull him in for a kiss.

The kiss was luxuriant as they explored one another's mouths at leisure, their bodies still heavy and sated from orgasm. The sensation was wonderful, lush and heady, as they traded slow, wet kisses. Paul scooted closer and draped his arm across Daniel's torso, and Daniel mirrored the gesture. Paul's hand stroked slowly up and down along Daniel's spine to touch skin that felt like warmed silk. 

Paul felt Daniel insinuate one leg between his own as he shifted his body closer. He felt a spark of heat as his dick came into contact with Daniel's once more and he tilted his hips to bring them into full alignment. Without any conscious thought he began to move, his body undulating slowly against Daniel's. They began to rock back and forth at a languid pace and kissed long and deep. There was no need to rush, so Paul relaxed and let himself savor the heat of Daniel's body, the strength of his capable hands, the movement of his skillful tongue. Daniel gave and Paul took and gave back in return, and when climax hit it was like a warm tide washing over him, drawing him toward peaceful slumber.

When Paul awoke some time later, it was to the sensation of hands gliding along his back. He made no attempt to open his eyes; instead, he relaxed and enjoyed the soothing touch and the feel of warm skin and a steady heartbeat beneath his cheek. He opened his eyes at last and tilted his head up to look at Daniel who was watching him as expected, a contented little smile gracing his lips. Paul yawned.

"What time is it?"

Daniel squinted at his watch. "Not late. Just before midnight."

Paul's left hand slid along Daniel's body, down past his belly to rest lightly on Daniel's cock. It began to harden at the touch. He gave Daniel his most devilish smile as his hand rubbed along the length of Daniel's cock. "So, we've got plenty of time."

The answering gleam in Daniel's eyes was like an electric current to the groin. Daniel smiled a filthy smile and gave a slow nod. "Oh yes, lots and lots of time."

"It would be a shame to waste it."

"Absolutely. Carpe diem and all that."

"Exactly."

Paul leaned in and gave Daniel a kiss, quick and sharp. He looked down a their bodies still spattered with come.

"Maybe a shower first?"

Daniel nodded. "Good plan."

Paul rolled off Daniel and padded to bathroom, knowing Daniel would follow. The bathroom was small, barely more than a closet, but it had a shower. As he turned on the faucet, Paul silently congratulated himself for having splurged on a room with a bath. The pipes shuddered and groaned in protest for several seconds, but eventually provided a cascade of tepid water. Paul ducked inside the stall and Daniel quickly plastered himself against Paul, much to his delight. The stall was cramped, barely big enough for one, but they made do. They traded the soap back and forth, along with kisses and increasingly greedy touches. Paul muttered a curse when he banged his elbow against the tiled wall. Daniel snickered and Paul swallowed the sound with a hungry kiss. The laugh turned into a moan and Paul found himself painfully hard once again. He shoved Daniel against the wall, desperate for more contact, and ground against the other man who bucked upwards to meet him. So good, so fucking good...

The shower chose that moment to exact its revenge. Paul jumped as the previously lukewarm water turned frigid.

"Fuck!" he yelled as he dove to turn off the faucets and stopped the flow of cold water. He heard laughter behind him and when he turned he saw Daniel watching him with an amused expression.

"So, you think that was funny, do you?"

"Yep," Daniel replied, laughter in his voice.

"I'll show you funny," he growled then shook his head, throwing droplets of cold water at Daniel.

"Paul!"

Now it was Paul's turn to laugh at Daniel's unhappy pout. Daniel sighed then held his hands up.

"OK, truce. Tell you what? How about I help warm you back up."

"Best offer I've had all night."

Daniel gave him a smoldering gaze. "The night's still young," he purred.

Paul's cock stiffened at those words. He jumped out of the shower and pulled Daniel with him. He rubbed them cursorily with a threadbare towel and then they were back on the rumpled bed, tangled together like puppies. Their earlier, frantic need had returned in force. They rolled back and forth across the bed and this time Paul wound up on top. He pinned Daniel to the bed, straddling his hips and holding his hands still above his head. 

Daniel offered only token resistance as Paul loomed over him then leaned down and claimed his mouth with a sharp kiss. Daniel's eyes fluttered closed and when he opened them again, they were almost black with desire. "Hmmm...now what should I do with you?" he asked as he rocked his hips against Daniel's. 

The question was teasing, but Daniel's reply was serious. "Fuck me."

Paul stilled, his eyes going wide. "What?"

"I want you to fuck me." Daniel repeated.

Paul gulped, suddenly unable to breathe. "I...I've never...I mean, yeah I've done stuff, but I've never...well, you know..."

Daniel nodded, apparently unfazed by the stumbling admission. "It's alright, Paul," he reassured with a gentle smile. "I can show you what to do. That is, if you want to..." 

Paul's groin tightened at the offer and his heart began to pound furiously in his chest. "Yes," he croaked in a voice raw with arousal and nervousness.

Daniel nodded. "OK, first things first. Do you have a condom?"

Paul nodded. He had one stashed in his wallet, though he had never had occasion to need it. Not until now, anyway.

"Good," Daniel praised. "Now, we're going to need some lube."

Paul stared at him blankly

"Paul? Lube?"

"Lube, right," Paul muttered, too distracted by the enormity of what Daniel was offering him to concentrate. His gaze swept the darkened room looking for something, anything, that they could use.

"Paul, do you have any sunscreen?"

"Sunscreen?" he echoed before Daniel's meaning seeped into befuddled brain. "Oh! Sunscreen, right." He clambered off Daniel and dove for his duffle bag. He tossed out various items and muttered imprecations until his hand closed around the item he needed. He held it aloft with a sound of triumph and turned to see Daniel raised up on his elbows to watch him in fond amusement. Paul blushed the searched for his wallet and the condom and then scurried back over to the bed.

Paul held the tube between them and Daniel rested a hand over his. "Let me."

Paul nodded and relinquished his prize. Daniel's eyes remained locked on Paul as he flipped upon the lid on the sunscreen and squirted a generous amount into his other hand and coated his fingers He watched enthralled as Daniel reclined once more, legs spread and canted slightly as Daniel reached towards his ass. Paul saw Daniel's index finger slide ever so slowly into Daniel's ass to disappear from view. The finger pistoned in and out, its motion smooth and then Daniel added a second finger, twisting them and scissoring them inside of his body. Daniel gave a groan and his eyes fluttered closed but only for a moment. He opened his eyes again and Paul could see his own hunger reflected back to him. 

Daniel, however, wasn't done. A third finger was added and now Daniel's hips began to rise ever so slightly in tandem to the movement of his fingers and more sounds came from Daniel, soft groans and gasps. Paul's throat went dry. It was, without a doubt, the most erotic thing he had ever seen. It took every shred of his frayed composure not to come from the sight of Daniel fucking himself on his own fingers.

"Paul."

The sound of his own name distracted him from the show. Daniel's eyes were bright in the darkness. "Put the condom on."

He did as instructed. He tore the foil wrapper open with his teeth and tossed it aside before he rolled the rubber down his erection with the greatest of care.

"Good, now put some sunscreen on your dick."

Paul nodded. His fingers shook with anticipation as he squirted the lotion into his other hand. He coated his cock quickly, He felt ready to explode.

"Come here," Daniel commanded in a low, rough voice and Paul complied instantly. He settled between Daniel's open thighs and waited.

"Hook my legs over your shoulders and lean forward. Good," Daniel praised as Paul did as instructed. "Now, gently spread my ass cheeks and line your cock up with the hole."

Paul could feel sweat beading on his skin and his muscles tensed as he strove to retain control. He moved into position.

"OK, now push in gently. There will be a little resistance at first, but that's normal. Slow and steady, Paul, that's it."

It was, Paul later reflected, the most amazing and terrifying moment of his young life. He pushed in gently, desperate to not cause any pain. As Daniel had warned, there was a brief moment of resistance and then a 'pop' and he was inside. Paul groaned. The sensation was extraordinary. He was gripped by tight, warm flesh and he held still for a moment awed by the feeling and then he began to move.

Paul struggled to find a rhythm. He held himself up, braced on arms that quivered with tension as he tried to move slowly, terrified of hurting Daniel. Sweat began to trickle down his face and along his spine and he closed his eyes tightly, overwhelmed by sensation.

"Paul."

He opened his eyes and gazed down at Daniel. A smile graced his flushed featured and there was a softness in Daniel's eyes that nearly broke Paul's heart. Daniel reached up and hooked an arm around Paul's neck to pull him down for a long rapturous kiss.

"Let go, Paul," Daniel whispered in his ear. "It'll be alright."

Daniel kissed him again, hard and sharp and Paul's control snapped. He began to move faster, and then he tilted his hips to change the angle of penetration. Daniel arched up to meet him, a gasping cry torn from his lips. Paul leaned down and kissed him deliriously as he thrust deep into Daniel's body. Daniel bucked up against him and Paul could feel the blunt edges of Daniel's nails as they raked along his back.

Paul dove in for another kiss and grabbed Daniel's dick. He tugged at the other man's erection, wanting Daniel to come with him. 

"Paul, oh God. Paul!" Daniel sobbed.

Paul's pace quickened, his body no longer his own, and then orgasm hit and he came with a loud cry. He collapsed against Daniel's heaving chest and felt a wet stickiness against his stomach, evidence of Daniel's own climax. Daniel wrapped his arms around him and Paul nestled his face against Daniel's neck to breath in the scent of sweat and completion. He kissed the damp skin and his tongue slithered out to taste salt. He felt Daniel place a soft kiss against his brow. 

Paul sighed and luxuriated in the afterglow. He wanted to hold onto this feeling for as long as he could, so it was with some reluctance that Paul slid from Daniel's body to discard the used condom in the small trash can near the bed. When he moved away, however, Daniel stopped him and pulled him back into his embrace. Paul happily obliged, warmed more than he could even begin to tell by the thought that Daniel wanted him near. 

Paul looked up at Daniel to see the other man watching him, the earlier softness still lingering in his eyes.

"Thank you." 

The words seemed terribly inadequate in the face of the gift Daniel had given him, but Paul couldn't think of anything else to say. Daniel gave him a contented smile and Paul returned it in kind, though he suspected that his own expression was dazed and more than a little smug. 

"It was my pleasure," Daniel said.

Paul reached out and traced the curve of Daniel's lips with his fingertips. "I think that goes both ways."

"That means you were doing it right, then."

Paul chuckled at that. "Thanks for the tip."

"Any time."

Before he could say anything else, Paul yawned hugely.

"Sorry."

"That's OK. I'm kinda tired myself. Something must've worn me out."

"Something?" Another yawn punctuated his question.

"Or someone," Daniel amended with a smile. He leaned across and kissed Paul long and deep. When they parted, Daniel pulled him back into his embrace.

"Go to sleep, Paul."

"Night." Exhaustion and satiation weighted his limbs and Paul felt the lure of slumber pulling at his senses. He settled against Daniel's chest and let the sound of his heartbeat lull him to a deep, contented sleep.

Paul slowly came awake to sunlight filtering weakly through half closed shutters. He closed his eyes again and sighed. He didn't want to wake just yet, wanted to spend just a little bit longer in bed with Daniel. He reached out to caress Daniel's skin; instead his hand encountered cool sheets. He was awake in an instant. Paul sat up and scanned the room in the gray light of early dawn. There was no sign of Daniel.

"Daniel?" he called out even though he knew it was futile.

He was gone. 

Paul pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He frowned and tried to remember the events of the previous night. He'd slept with Daniel, both in the literal and metaphorical sense, and had fallen asleep in the other man's arms. And then...? His brow furrowed. A snippet of memory surfaced, faint and fragmented of a soft voice whispering words of endearment and farewell in his ear and cool lips pressed against his brow and then...nothing.

Daniel was gone. Paul's fingers drifted to his lips, unconsciously chasing the taste of the other man on his lips that had faded with the dawn. Already the night seemed like a surreal memory, almost too perfect to be anything more than a fantasy. Paul clung to the signs that marked Daniel's passing, the physical, tangible reminders of what had happened between them: the stains on the sheets, the scent of Daniel's aftershave that still lingered on the pillowcase, a bruise on his arm where Daniel had held him too tightly.

Paul leaned back against the headboard and sighed. He knew he was just being foolish and melodramatic. He'd known Daniel would be leaving, just as he was. He'd known from the start that they would both be going their separate ways, first to different cities and later to different careers and different lives. Daniel had been nothing more than a fling, a brief, heady flirtation and now he was gone. There was no point mulling over what ifs and wallowing in regrets. He'd had one amazing, incredible night and now he had to move on. He had no other choice, really, since he knew the chances of ever seeing Daniel again were astronomical. After all, what fates could ever conspire to bring an Air Force officer and an archeologist together again? 

Still...he was sorry that he didn't have the opportunity to say goodbye to Daniel. That was the one regret he knew he would carry with him.

Paul looked at his watch and sighed. He should probably get up and pack his stuff. He had a train to Florence to catch in a couple of hours. With a sigh, Paul levered himself out of the bed and went into the bathroom. 

Paul showered and dressed quickly before packing his belongings back in his duffel bag. He stood for several long moments, the tube of sunscreen clasped in his hands, before he tossed it into the bag and zipped it shut. He grabbed the bag and slung his backpack over his shoulder and gave the room one last review, mostly out of habit. It was then that he saw the postcard lying on the floor near the nightstand. He bent over and picked it up and his heart gave a little lurch. It was the postcard of Bartolomeo Colleoni that he'd purchased near Saint Mark's Square and stashed in his backpack. Paul turned the card over. The inscription was brief:

_A mio caro Paolo_

_Buona fortuna, mio generalissimo_

_Daniel_

Paul traced the words with a fingertip and sounded them out in his head. He could almost see Daniel scrawling the message on the card and then propping it on the nightstand where Paul was sure to see it. Instead the card had fallen to the floor and Paul had almost missed it. Almost. Paul held the card to his chest for a moment and closed his eyes as he wished Daniel well. Then with the greatest of care, Paul slid the card into the pocket of his backpack and zipped it closed.

He gazed about the room once more, and this time, Paul knew he was taking everything that he needed with him. He left the room and closed the door firmly behind him.

Three hours later, Paul was on the train to Florence. No one else was seated in his compartment and Paul was grateful for the silence. He leaned back in his seat and gazed out at the Italian campagna rushing past his window. Paul, however, didn't see the fields of green and gold, nor the bright, blue sky overhead. Instead, he saw narrow winding streets and paving stones bathed in moonlight. And overlaying it all, a warm smile and a pair of eyes that reflected a softness that nearly broke Paul's heart.

Paul closed his eyes and smiled, dreaming of Venice.


End file.
